Tonight’s topic is innocence.

But first, the scary thing that just happened to me. I think it’s happened once before. Either way, it was scary as hell.

I had been playing Skyrim for a while and I got up to go get my supper and thus begin the enbloggening process. And, somewhat thoughtlessly, I had popped up abruptly instead of getting up slowly, and getting up fast like that is a very unwise thing to do when you are old and fat and diabetic and have been sitting in the exact same position for hours on end.

So when I hit the kitchen and stopped moving I experienced the effects of my blood being rapidly redistributed in my body from where it had pooled in my lower torso and crotch to something more like healthy bloodflow and temporarily disrupting the smooth flow of blood to my planet sized brain.

In other words, I had a massive head rush.

That’s not unusual for me, though. The unusual part was that it didn’t merely come and go like a wave, like it normally does. I

It just kept coming in wave after wave of dizziness and nausea. I had to put both hands on the coutner to steady myself and hold myself up so that I didn’t fall and there were some very bad moments where my nightmares about losing consciousness and waking up immobile in a hospital bed with tubes everywhere swam into view.

Plus I felt like I was going to faint, and that might have landed me in the ER too.

I counted four separate waves of dizziness. plus a couple of aftershock waves. It was terriblt frightening and has left me feeling rather shaken.

No, I, of course, know all the things I am supposed to do if I want to prevent such things from happening in the future. Stretch my legs. Wiggle my toes. Get up and walk around the apartment every hour or so. Rub my legs briskly in order to stimulate circulation. Get a heating bad. I know all that bullshit.

But for me, it is never a lack of knowing. I have a lot of problems but ignorance isn’t one of them. I know lots about a lot of things. I both take in a lot of information and via deduction get even more information out of that information.

It’s a lack of doing. And until someone has an answer to the question “What if you don’t feel ;like doing anythuing?” that doesn’t boil down to “do something”, my lack of doing will continue to limit my life.

I mean, I just don’t have the spoons for that shit. Know what I mean?

Anyhow. it was very scary and now I am kind of freaked out about it. I keep waiting for my medical issues to join forces with my utterly sedentary lifestyle and total lack of useful exercise and finally go in for the kill.

But it doesn’t happen. So… so far so… good?

And I can’t explain why I can’t do all the obvious things that would improve my life other than to say that I don’t have the internal resources to do it. Hence the spoons thing.

Damn that is a useful metaphor. I dream of coming up with something that good.

Anyhow, innocence. I never had any.

Actually, that’s not true. I do have memories of an early childhood where I was happy and precocious and not yet terrified by the world and reality in general. A time when I was that cute redhaired kid who talked like an adult and was a source of warm stories about odd but delightful encounters people had with me.

Then I got raped and it all went to hell.

And no child shoul lose their innocence that early. Innocence is meant to protect the child from the scariness of the world until they are old enough to handle it. That is its sole function.I grew up without it.

As a result, I always knew more than I should have, and knew the evil of the world from far too young an age, and that made me scared of the world at a time when I should have felt like everything was great, the world was the block where I lived,  and my biggest worry was getting enough quarters to go play games at the arcade.

I think that it was this primary trauma that forced my mind to so radically favour the cold circuit of icy intellectualism over the hot circuit of emotional reasoning and faith.

Being smart was the one thing I knew how to do. The onset of bullying told me that I was socially disgusting. The torture chamber that was gym class showed me that I was physically incompetent. Later on, shop class and sewing class would show me how badly wired for physical coordination at the small level I was as well.

All I had – and all I have – are highly intellectual assets like creativity, high information retention, asbstract reasoning skills, emotional insight, and heap and heaps of raw brain power I can throw at any question.

And that should be enough. It’s far more than most people get. And it would be enough if it wasn’t for one thing :

I’m broken inside. And I can’t fix myself. And nobody can fix me for me. So I’ll stay broken. forever and ever.

All I can do is keep bailing this boat of mine out and hoping that some day,. it will be light enough to float again.

I’m lighter than I have been, and getg a little lighter every day. But I am so very tired of waiting for my life to begin. I was so sure VFS would be the start of the life I was meant to have, but I forgot to factor in how broken I was and how my mental illness would be lurking in the corner of my mind at all times, just waiting for a moment of weakness in which it could convince me to act very much against my best interests and thus have me all to itself again.

So back to the doldrums I went, and that where I will stay until some kind of fatefull breeze can stir me to action once again.

I won’t be holding my breath waiting for that to happen any time soon.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.